Donor
by LaylaBinx
Summary: Sam, I swear to God, you are the only person I know who could get a concussion by donating plasma..." Limp/annoyed Sam, Worried/aggravating Dean :D
1. Donation

**Hello everyone!! This is my very first Supernatural fic so please don't be too hard on me, okay?? While I've never actually donated plasma, I have donated blood so I'm basing this on my experience more than anything and the things I found on Google :D If there is anything I got wrong or need to add just let me know and I'll be happy to change it; no fames though, please. That's just mean ;_; Anyway, I hope you all like it!!**

**I own nothing!!**

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"Plasma donation? Are you serious?" Sam gave his brother a skeptical look as he slid into the passenger seat.

Dean snagged the receipt from the gas pump and slipped it into his back pocket. "Yeah, man. It takes what, like an hour? And you get paid for it. A little extra cash is never a bad thing." He flashed Sam a sly grin as he climbed into the driver's seat, shutting the door behind him.

"Yeah, but that's a terrible reason to donate." Sam shook his head at the idea and frowned.

His brother sighed softly, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. "Well, I hate to break it to you Sammy but we're kind of hard up for cash as it is. That last tank of gas pretty much wiped us out." Dean nodded toward the pump next to his window and shrugged. "Look, I know it's not the best reason in the world to donate plasma but with the cash we get we might actually manage to check into a hotel tonight instead of sleeping in the car again." The owner had been a little overly suspicious at the last motel they'd stayed at when three different cards had been declined from their stack. He began asking several unwanted questions which became increasingly harder to answer while maintaining their cover. So instead of running into that problem again while still in the same state, they had been camping out in the car.

Sam still frowned but he had to agree. Both of the hunts they had been on recently had only been about sixty miles apart and it would still be a full day's drive to get out of the great state of Texas before it was all over with. The muscles in his back tightened sympathetically and he straightened a little, realizing that he hadn't actually slept on a flat surface in a little over a week. He was usually a fitful sleeper anyway and the uncomfortable seats were doing nothing for his already damaged sleep patterns. Hell, it had probably been about four days since he had gotten a full night's sleep anyway.

Seeing his younger brother still wrestling with the idea, Dean shrugged and looked toward the road. "It's either that or that nice little corner down there for fifty buck a pop. With your pretty face I'm sure we'd have no problem rolling in some customers." He laughed playfully as Sam punched him solidly in the shoulder.

With a deep, resigned sigh, he turned to Dean with a defeated look. "Alright, fine. But we're getting a room with two beds this time. The last time we had to share one you kicked me out on the floor."

Dean laughed and patted Sam's knee. "That's my boy." He grinned, ignoring the playful punch that connected solidly with his shoulder. He shifted the Impala into drive and pulled out of parking lot, turning onto the street and heading toward the donation center.

**OOOOO**

The building looked simple enough; dark brick with a painted white sign that said DCI Biologicals written across the side of the wall. About three other cars were parked in the parking lot as they arrived, a young woman with a blue band wrapped around her elbow walking out and climbing into the gold Saturn across from them. She gave them a friendly smile as they got out of the car and waved slightly as she pulled out of her parking place. The brother returned the gesture and turned toward the building, making their way across the mostly empty parking lot.

"There's not many people here…" Sam muttered softly, looking around as they walked toward the front door. "You think there's something wrong with this place?"

Dean shook his head and laughed a little. "No Sam, I don't think there's anything wrong with this place. It's one o'clock in the afternoon on a Monday, I think most people are at work right now." He glanced at his younger brother from the corner of his eye and noticed the stiff stance and the nervous fidgeting he was doing with his hands. "Dude, what's the matter with you?"

"Nothing."

A closer look told him everything he needed to know and Dean gave Sam a lopsided grin. "Sam, are you afraid of needles?"

"No." The answer was short and clipped, almost like it was a pain to get out, and Dean was absurdly proud of himself for getting it right.

"Aww, want me to hold your hand while they hook you up to the machine?" He teased playfully, completely ignoring the death glare Sam threw at him.

"Shut up." The younger man sighed heavily and took a deep breath. "Let's just get this over with."

Chuckling softly to himself, Dean shrugged and opened the door, a blast of icy air causing them to step back a little before entering. The lobby was cool and dim, most of the light coming in from the large windows that framed the door. The air smelled sterile, clean, and it almost reminded them of being in a doctor's office. Two brown leather couches sat perpendicular to one another as well as a handful of chair scattered around the room against the walls. A television was on in the top right corner of the room, the news flashing softly across the screen. A young woman in blue scrubs looked up from behind the front desk and smiled warmly at them.

"Hello, are you here to donate plasma today?" She asked, the faint southern accent in her voice making Dean smile.

He caught the back of Sam's shirt as he made and unconscious movement toward the door and held him tightly in one place. "Yes ma'am we are. My brother and I were driving by and thought today would be a perfect day to make a donation." He winked and flashed her a grin, another ego-boost as she blushed.

The girl gathered two clipboards and slipped a few sheets of paper beneath the clips, resting a pen on the top of each board. "All you need to do is fill out these sheets and I'm going to need a copy of both of your Ids."

Dean reached into his back pocket and fished out his wallet, nudging Sam to do the same. A few seconds later, both of their driver's licenses were placed on the desk and the woman began scribbling down some information a sheet in front of her. She scanned their licenses into the computer and asked them if this was their current address, if they had lived in Dallas for very long, and absently telling them that she had family from down there. She passed their Ids back to them and handed them the paperwork, nodding for them to have a seat in the lobby.

Dean slipped the fake license back into his wallet, silently glad he'd made them when they were in Fort Worth for their last hunt. After all, they had lived there for a little while when he was about eight so it wasn't that far fetched. He took a seat next to Sam on the couch and began filling out the forms, making a few silly comments about the questions over his sexual history and why he would ever have a prolonged stay in Europe or Africa.

Sam smiled a little at his comments but kept his eyes glued to his paper, concentration on writing without his hand shaking. He had seen some terrible things in his life, things most people couldn't even comprehend existed, but that was nothing compared to this. He absolutely, positively loathed needles. With a passion. Getting shots when he was younger had taken every ounce of self-control he had to keep from running out of the room and it hadn't gotten any easier the older he's gotten. Stitches were one thing because most of the time he was so busy focused on something else he hardly noticed but to willingly sit there and have his blood pulled out, swirled around in a machine, and them pumped back into him was completely different. The very idea made his stomach flip uneasily and his palms begin to sweat. He could take zombies and ghosts and monsters any day of the week but personally preferred to stay as far away from needles as humanly possible.

They both finished paperwork and took it up to the desk, handing it to the girl and walking back to sit down. After leafing through the pages, the young woman stepped out from behind the desk and looked between them, opening a door behind her. "Okay, well I can take one of you back now if you're ready."

Knowing Sam wasn't going to volunteer himself, Dean shrugged and stood. "Guess I'll go." He flashed her a grin again and looked back at his younger brother. "See you in a bit." He patted Sam on the shoulder lightly and followed the girl into the hallway.

The door closed and Sam was suddenly alone in the quiet lobby. He turned his attention to the news and concentrated on watching it, forcing himself to read the words scrolling by on the bottom of the screen. Too bad it was nothing he was interested in. Something about the financial economy and then something else about government funds. Neither of which pertained to anything they usually paid attention to but it was still better then nothing.

A few minutes later, the girl came back out of the hallway and went back behind the desk. She gazed at Sam for a few minutes before sitting down.

Sam, however, noticed her stare and shifted a little nervously. "Something wrong?"

The girl smiled at him and shook her head. "No, your brother just told me to keep an eye on you to make sure you didn't bolt for the door."

Sam laughed softly and shook his head. "That's sweet but really, where would I go? He has the keys." He didn't mention that he could hotwire a car in under a minute but the idea had crossed his mind.

The girl smiled again and shook her head. "Scared of needles, huh?" She swept her hair over on shoulder and glanced at the news he was watching so intently. "It's really not that bad, I promise. Just a really small pinch and that's all." She walked out and handed him a bottle of water. "Drink this now. It'll help with the donation process." She waited for him to open the water and take few sips before she turned and walked back behind the desk.

Sam smiled at her efforts to relax him but they were somewhat in vain. In reality, he knew he could handle to process but it still made him queasy. "I'm Ashley by the way."

Sam looked up as she said her name and smiled softly. "I'm Sam."

"I know." She grinned and rested her chin in her hand, looking up at the TV again. "Wow, there is really nothing on at this time of day." She mumbled quietly.

"So how did you get involved in this?" Sam asked, knowing that if he was thinking about something else it would help take his mind off the coming events.

Ashley shrugged a little and looked down at the desk. "I going to school to be a phlebotomist and figured this was the best thing to do in the meantime." A middle-aged man appeared from the hallway just then and stopped at the front desk, talking quietly with Ashley as she counted out a few bills and handed them to him. The man thanked her and walked to the door, smiling politely at Sam as he stepped outside. Ashley disappeared into the hallway again, leaving Sam alone once more. A few minutes late she reappeared and smiled encouragingly at him. "Your turn, Sam."

Taking a slow breath, Sam stood and followed her back into the hallway. The building was actually much smaller than he had originally thought, only two small rooms taking up the side walls and one large room in the back. An older nurse met them in the hallway and greeted him warmly, leading Sam into a small room that looked a little like an office. He stepped onto the scale against the wall and watched as the nurse wrote down his weight. She indicated for him to have a seat chair next to the scale and he sat quietly as she checked his vitals and temperature. The nurse waited for him to finish the water before she pricked his finger and tested his blood for the correct protein and iron levels, smiling at him when she was done. "All right, you're all set. Just follow me right back here and we'll get you set up."

Sam nodded and followed the nurse into the back room, taking a few deep breaths as they walked. Two rows of reclined chairs were lined up back to back in the room, Dean and one other man sitting in the far corner of the room watching TV. Dean grinned at Sam as he walked in and waved a little. Sam returned the gesture and stopped at the chair the nurse was standing in front of. She noticed Dean and glanced at Sam. "You can sit next to him if you'd like."

Sam smiled and shook his head. "No, its okay. Thank you though."

The nurse nodded and slipped on a pair of gloves as Sam slid into the chair. A small, boxy machine sat next to the chair and Sam had to side-step in order to avoid stepping on it as he passed. The nurse gently rolled up his sleeve and turned his arm over so it was facing upward. She scrubbed the inside of his elbow with iodine and handed him a little grey stress ball. "Okay, now I want you to roll this in your hand and squeeze lightly every few seconds to keep the circulation going through your arm."

A blue cuff was placed around his arm and inflated until it was pressing tightly into his skin. The nurse touched the veins in his arm lightly and Sam turned his head away as she pulled out the needle.

"Okay, you're going to feel a little pinch." She said, keeping her hand on his arm and slipping the needle into his skin.

Sam held his breath as he felt the sharp sting of the needle entering his arm followed by a dull pain the radiated around the penetration site. The nurse smiled at him and patted his leg. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" She turned on the machine and watched for a few seconds to make sure everything was going correctly before stepping away.

Sam let out a slow breath and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the chair. His hands were still a little shaky but he knew the worst of it was over. The whirl of the machine next to him and the TVs droning in the background helped to relax his frazzled nerves and he felt himself sink deeper into the chair. After a few minutes, the nurse came back into the check on him and to unhook the man sitting a few chairs away from Dean. She spoke with him for a few minutes, making sure he felt alright and handing him a bottle of juice and a packet of crackers. The man stood and thanked her, nodding to Dean and following her to the front. Once they were alone, Dean turned as far as he could to see Sam and grinned. "See, I told you it wasn't that bad."

The younger man smiled a little and rolled his eyes, leaning back into the chair and rolling the stress ball around in his hand. Every couple of minutes the nurse would come back to check on both of them before disappearing back into the front. Dean watched the same news Sam had been watching earlier, making a few various comments about the state of the economy and mumbling about how stupid it was to let it get that way in the first place. The nurse reappeared and walked over to him, carefully unhooking him from the machine and looping the blue band around his arm. She handed him the same bottle of juice and packet of crackers the other man had gotten and asked him the same questions, staying to make sure he could stand up and move around without falling over. Satisfied that he was fine, she stopped to check on Sam one last time before leaving once again.

Dean sat in the chair next to his brother and leaned back, gulping down the juice. "Damn, didn't know donating plasma could dehydrate you."

Sam laughed and shook his head. "Yeah, plasma makes up about 55% of your actual blood so its taking out a lot of fluid from your body."

"Yeah, alright professor." Dean shrugged and finished his juice, standing and walking over to a nearby trashcan to throw away the bottle. He returned to his chair and sat down, glancing at Sam out of the corner of his eye. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Sam answered automatically, not wanting to tell Dean that there was a slight ringing in his ears or that his mouth was dry. Figuring it was just because of the dehydration, he ignored it and looked back at the TV.

The nurse returned about ten minutes later and walked over to him. "Alright, I think you're all done." She carefully unhooked him from the machine and looped the blue band around his arm as well. She handed him the juice and crackers, asked him if he felt light-headed at all and made sure he was feeling alright. He told her that he felt fine, surprised that he actually meant it after being unhooked, and sat up a little straighter.

The nurse smiled and looked between them. "Alright boys, you both just helped save a couple of lives. You should feel very proud of yourselves."

Neither brother had the heart to tell her that they saved countless lives everyday so they just nodded a little in response.

"Since this is your first time donating, I'm going to get one more sheet of paper work for you two to fill out and you'll be all set to go." She disappeared around the corner once again and made her way up to the front.

"Well, that was fun." Dean stood and patted his brother on the shoulder. "You ready, Sammy?"

Sam nodded and swung his legs over the edge of the chair, standing slowly. He took a slow breath and waited for Dean to lead the way. Walking, however, proved to be a much more difficult task, and he suddenly found himself swaying a little. He could faintly hear Dean still talking but it sounded muffled and incredibly far away. The ringing in his ears returned suddenly and his vision swam. The ground felt like it was covered in marbles and he stumbled a little, bumping into the chair as he did.

The sound made Dean turn around and he frowned in concern. "Sammy, you okay?"

Sam tried to answer but motor skills had abandoned him as well. He shook his head slowly as the world tilted sickeningly. Dean was taking a step toward him, saying his name, but he couldn't answer. The blood pounded in his ears and there was a sudden weightlessness as he pitched forward, his head connecting sharply with the corner of the machine. The world went completely white for a split second before fading into nothing but darkness.

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**Yay!! Hope you liked it!! :D**


	2. Red Sox

**Yay!! Sorry it took me so long to update O.o Hope you enjoy!!**

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"-ammy…?"

"Sammy…?"

Sam winced, opening his eyes slowly and blinking at the harsh fluorescent lights over head. His head was throbbing, a dull ringing vibrating somewhere deep in his ears. Someone was calling his name. Blinking again, he looked up to see the concerned face of his brother swim into view.

"Hey kiddo, you with me?"

"Dean…?" Sam's voice echoed in his head and frowned, not liking the way the words sounded muffled.

"The one and only." Dean flashed him a grin, the relief clearly evident on his face.

Sam frowned again, finally able to grasp his surroundings. Why was he staring at the ceiling? And for that matter, why was he laying down? He was back on the chair, the mattress reclined until he was nearly flat on his back. He struggled to sit up, his elbow pressing into the soft foam behind him.

"Whoa, whoa…" Dean shook his head, pressing his hand against Sam's chest to keep him from moving. "Easy there tiger. No sitting up just yet."

"What happened?" Sam mumbled, noticing the relief in his brother's eyes had started to fade into irritation.

"What happened was you just had an epic spooning session with that spiffy little machine right there." Dean nodded toward the machine he's been hooked up to earlier, looking back at Sam. "Dammit Sam, why the hell didn't you tell me you were feeling dizzy?"

Sam shook his head slowly, wincing as the movement made his vision blur. "Didn't think it was that bad…"

"Well young man, 'thinking it wasn't that bad' led you to collapse and give yourself a possible concussion." A rather irritated voice sighed from the doorway.

Sam looked over to see the nurse from earlier walk in with a damp washcloth in her hand. She sat on the edge of the chair next to him and began to gently scrub away something sticky and wet that was running down the side of his face. She shook her head in disapproval and gave him a motherly look." You really should have said something." She scolded gently, pressing the cloth to a sore area right above his left eyebrow.

Sam winced as a flash of pain shot through his head and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry…I really didn't think I would get so dizzy…"

The nurse sighed softly, keeping the washcloth pressed to his head. "Well, if you haven't gotten enough sleep the night before or haven't eaten before donating it can make you lightheaded sometimes."

Dean frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew Sam hadn't been sleeping well for that past couple of night but didn't know it was affecting him like this. Well, he had promised him a bed earlier and he was definitely going to make sure he went through with that promise.

The nurse lifted the washcloth to look at the wound and switched her attention from Sam to look up at him. "Well, I don't think he'll need stitches but I would recommend taking your brother to a hospital so he can be checked out."

Sam shook his head slowly and winced. "No, no hospitals. I'm fine, really."

The nurse frowned again. "Young man, you have a bleeding gash across your forehead and you were unconscious for about three minutes. I think a hospital is your next stop."

"She's right, Sammy. You don't really have a choice in the matter." Dean leaned down and grasped his younger brother's arm, winking just enough so he could see. To be honest, Dean had no intention of taking Sam to a hospital; they'd had more than enough experience with concussions throughout their lives. Not only that, hospitals were expensive and someone was eventually going to catch onto the fake insurance cards they had been using. Still, he needed to make it believable to placate the nurse so he shook his head firmly at his little brother's please.

Sam caught onto the ruse and sighed dramatically, playing up his part as well. "Fine." He groaned, struggling once again to sit up. Dean grabbed his right arm and tossed it around his shoulder, waiting patiently for Sam to stand up before he wrapped his other arm around his waist. Sam swayed slightly, but the strong grip around his back kept him upright and he shifted so he was leaning a little more heavily into Dean's shoulder. The nurse took his other arm, keeping a steady grip on him in case he toppled her way and once again pressed the washcloth to his head. Together, taking slow, small steps, they trio managed to make their way out of the back room and up toward the front lobby.

Ashley's eyes widened when she saw Sam being pretty much carried and her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh Sam…" She whispered apologetically, rushing out from behind the desk to open the door for them.

Sam gave her a weak smile and shook his head slowly. "Its okay, Ashley. I just stood up a little too quick." He ignored the comment Dean made under his breath.

Ashley didn't look at all happy with that answer but remained silent, following them outside to the car.

They made it to the Impala and Dean opened the passenger side door, gently lowering his brother into the seat and wrapping the seat belt around him. He frowned, noticing the washcloth still pressed to his forehead and knowing Sam probably didn't have enough coordination at the time to hold it himself. Making sure his brother wasn't about to tumble out of the car and onto the pavement, Dean went around to the back seat and began rummaging around in the floorboards. He found a baseball hat that was probably only a few years younger than Sam and came back around to the passenger seat. "Sorry Sammy, I know you're not too fond of the Red Sox but this will have to do for now." Dean loosened the cap and gently placed it on Sam's head, tucking the bloody washcloth under the corner so that it was still pressed against the wound.

Satisfied with his improvisation, Dean turned back to the nurse and Ashley. "Don't worry, I'll take care of him." Knowing he still needed to play up the lie a little, he asked for directions to the nearest hospital and waited as the nurse pulled out a piece of scrap paper from her pocket and began scribbling on it. He took the paper, looked over it and was suddenly glad he wasn't going. He couldn't read a word of this. Still, he flashed her a bright grin and thanked her, slipping the useless map into his pocket and walking around to the driver's side.

Dean slid into the car, closing the door behind him and glancing at Sam out of the corner of his eye. "You still with me, Sammy?"

"Yeah, I'm good…" Sam mumbled, leaning back against the seat, hoping it would ease the dizziness.

With a nod, Dean pulled out of the parking lot, waving at the two women still standing in the parking lot and turning in the direction. Once they were clearly out of view, he took the map out of his pocket and crumbled it, dropping it into cup holder. He glanced at Sam again, a small laugh building in the back of his throat.

Sam blinked, looking over at his brother and raising his eyebrow just barely before it began to hurt. "Dude, what are you laughing at?"

"You." Came the giggled response.

"Why me?"

Dean gave him an incredulous look and shook his head, still grinning. "Sam, I swear to God, you are the only person I know who could get a concussion from donating plasma."

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes a little. "Shut up…" He was silent for a minute before looking back at his giggling brother. "Dammit Dean, it's not _that_ funny."

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**Woot!! Hehe, poor Sam. More to come so stay tuned!! :D**


	3. 20 questions

**Woo!! This chapter really gave me some trouble becuase I couldn't settle on the questions I wanted Dean to ask. I got the year right, didn't I? O.o...Oh well, hope you like it!!**

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"Hey Sammy…"

There was a gentle shake against his shoulder and Sam's eyes snapped open instantly, jerking him back to reality. He blinked slowly, squinting a little as the sun reflected brightly off the street and into the windshield.

"You still with me?"

Sam looked over to see Dean watching him out of the corner of his eye, concern evident on his face. He nodded slowly, wincing at the movement and looking back toward the road. The sun felt warm against his face and he relaxed against the seat once more, crossing his arms over his stomach loosely. His head was killing him, a bone-deep throb radiating through his skull and shot down the back of his neck. Keeping his eyes closed fought off the consistent dizziness but it did nothing for the other aches and pains he was experiencing. There was a bottle of Tylenol rolling around somewhere in the backseat; maybe if he could get to it-

"Sammy!"

Sam jerked upright again and looked over at Dean. "What?"

"You know the rules, kiddo. No sleeping with a concussion until I know you're not going politely slip into a coma and never wake up." Dean kept his tone light and teasing but Sam knew he was worried. He kept adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, something he only did when he was concerned or upset about something, and his voice had a slight edge to it.

"'m not sleeping…" Sam protested though he couldn't be sure if that was true or not.

"Yeah, sure you weren't." Dean mumbled, looking over to see Sam shifting himself into a straighter position against the seat, resting his neck against the headrest. He watched him for a second, noting the way Sam swayed a little even though they were stopped at a red light and the way he kept his eyes only half open. "Do you know you're first and last name?"

Sam looked over, his eyebrows raising a little. "What?"

"First and last name."

The younger man sighed and gave his brother an incredulous look. "Dean, I didn't hit my head _that _hard…"

"Mm-hmm. First and last name."

With another sigh, Sam mumbled, "Sam Winchester." He knew what Dean was trying to do; he was making sure he didn't have any kind of temporary memory loss due to the head wound but it was still irritating. Their dad used to send through the same list of questions when they were younger so Sam knew the routine like the back of his hand by now.

"Very good." Dean nodded and looked back at the road. "Do you know today's date?"

"Dean, seriously. It's not that-"

"Sam." His older brother warned, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument.

Sam squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to ward off another wave of dizziness. "March 9th."

"Good. What year were you born?"

Knowing Dean wasn't going to let this drop any time soon, Sam sighed in defeat and fell back against the seat. "1983."

"Where did we grow up?"

Sam looked surprised and blinked at Dean. "Dude, we never stayed in one place for more than a year…that's a loaded question."

Realizing the flaw in that question, Dean changed it. "Alright, smarty. What was the name of the town you were born in?"

"Lawrence, Kansas."

"Very good. What kind of car is this?"

"Impala."

"Yatzee." Dean grinned and patted Sam's leg. "Just making sure you didn't knock anything loose in that pointed little head of yours." He teased as Sam gave him another dirty look.

The younger man shifted a little, the metallic smell of dried blood making him uncomfortable. He could feel it sticking to washcloth and that thought made his stomach turn a little. Trying to take his mind off the still oozing wound in his forehead, he looked back at the road, watching the street signs as they stopped at another red light. "Dude, where are we going…?"

Dean looked over at him as they stopped. "We're finding a hotel so you can lay down." He explained, noticing the confusion clouding his brother's face. "What? I promised we'd say in a hotel tonight didn't I?"

"Well, yeah but I didn't think they'd actually paid you back at the clinic." Sam replied, taking a breath through his mouth as his stomach did another lazy flip.

Dean chuckled lightly and shook his head. "Are you serious? Man, I thought that nurse was about to have a stroke when she came back in and saw you on the floor." He laughed again, not wanting to admit that the sight of his little brother unconscious and bleeding on the linoleum floor had nearly given him a heart attack as well. "Hell, I think they paid us to make sure we wouldn't file a lawsuit."

The car jerked forward a little as the light turned green but that was all Sam could take. The edges of his vision faded to white and a sickening wave of heat washed through him as his stomach lurched to his throat. He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands over his eyes and wincing. "Oh God…pull over…" He gasped, his voice thick in the back of his throat.

Dean saw the sudden reaction and his big brother senses went into overdrive. "Sammy? What's wrong? Are you having another one of those freaky visions again?"

"No…" Sam's voice was strained as he fought to keep himself from throwing up in the car. He was panting shallowly, breathing through his mouth to ward off some of the nausea that had suddenly assaulted him.

Dean watched his brother carefully and pulled the car to the curb, shifting into park. No sooner had the car stopped, Sam jerked open the door and emptied the contents of his stomach into the street. He coughed and gasped as another tremor shook him to his core, retching onto the pavement again painfully.

Dean was out of his seat and at his brother's side in an instant, holding his shoulders gently to keep him from falling.

"Whoa, easy Sammy. I gotcha." He whispered as Sam nearly fell out of the car. His face was pale, a thin sheet of sweat forming across the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones. A small trickle of blood managed to seep past the washcloth and Dean brushed it away with his thumb.

Sam coughed, wincing as he dry heaved toward to pavement. His stomach contracted painfully, trying desperately to expel nothing. He shivered and spit, shaking his head slowly as he tried to clear his head.

"I gotcha." Dean reassured him as Sam slumped forward to rest his head against his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around his brother, rubbing slow, soothing circles into the tense muscles of his back. With his free hand, Dean pressed his fingers gently to the underside of Sam's wrist and counted his pulse silently. It was a little too fast for his liking but considering the strain his body had just undergone, it wasn't that uncommon.

"Ngh…Head hurts…" Sam mumbled into his shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut tightly.

"I know it does, kiddo." Dean agreed, his shoulder a little and cupping his brother's face. He looked into the glassy, unfocused eyes and brushed his thumb across his cheek. "You think you can make it to the nearest hotel?"

Sam took a slow, shaky breath and nodded. "Yeah…"

"Alright." Dean helped him back into the car, wrapping the seatbelt around him once again. After he was sure Sam was buckled in safely, Dean returned to his side of the car and slid into the seat. "If you need to stop again just let me know, okay?" He asked, squeezing Sam's leg gently. Seeing the weak nod, Dean shifted back into the drive and began his search for a hotel for the night.

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**Woot!! Hope you all liked it!! More fluff to come!! :D**


	4. PerV Motel

**Yay!! I'm so glad you all like this story; your reviews are so encouraging!! I hope I can continue to deliver!! :D**

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Dean maneuvered the car carefully, slowly turning into the parking lot of the hotel in an attempt to avoid making Sam nauseous again. A neon sign pointing to a small cluster of brightly painted buildings said Super Value Motel but considering most of the letters were burnt out, the word Per V Motel glowed brightly. Dean chuckled at the irony but held it in. The building looked about as old as he, Sam, Dad and Bobby combined but the sign out front advertised cheap rooms and as long as they had a bed and working shower, Dean was perfectly content. He pulled up front of the main office and shifted the car into park, glancing at his brother out of the corner of his eye. "You still doing okay, Sammy?" He asked, patting the younger man's leg gently.

"I'm awesome." Sam managed though his face clearly didn't relay the same message.

Dean nodded and slid out of the car, locking the door behind him absently. Not that he thought anyone would try to steal the car with Sam still in it but he also knew that in the unlikely even that it did happen, Sam wasn't really coherent enough to fight the person off. So, to avoid that problem, he locked the door.

He stepped into the tiny front office, frowning as the smell of burnt coffee and cigarette smoke threatened the overwhelm him. A weary-looking old man looked up as he walked in and sat up a little bit straighter behind the front desk. "Can I help you, son?" He asked, his voice grating and rough from years of smoking.

"Uh yeah," Dean said after a second, somewhat distracted at the rather provocative calendar posted behind the old man's head. Hello Ms. March…anyway. "I need a room for the night, two beds if you have it."

"Alright, sign in." The old man nodded in the direction of a tattered guestbook and rummaged around behind the desk for a second. "That'll be $38.50." He muttered, glancing up as Dean pulled out his wallet. Once the money had been placed on the desktop, he handed the room key to Dean. "Room 11, last door to your left." He instructed, swiping the cash from the desktop and hiding it in a small register beneath the desk.

"Thanks." Dean called over his shoulder, walking outside and slipping the key (an honest-to-God metal key) into his pocket. He returned to the car and unlocked the door, sliding into the driver's seat and grinning at Sam. "Got us a room." He announced, pulling the key out of his pocket and tossing it to his younger brother.

Sam caught the key and looked at it, just as surprised as he had been. "A metal key? Wow, this place has been here for a while, hasn't it?"

Dean smirked and pulled the car around the opposite end of the parking lot. "Yeah, and I'm pretty sure the guy working the front desk has been here just as long." They pulled up in front of their designated room and stopped. "At least he has good taste in women." Dean winked as Sam sighed and stepped out of the car, walking around the passenger side and opening the door. "Alright, Sasquatch. Up we go." He mumbled as he looped Sam's arm around his shoulders and stood slowly. Once he was sure Sam was standing at least relatively stable, they made their way to the door.

Dean slipped the key into the lock, jiggling the door a little to get it to fit, and pushed open the door. The room smelled stale, a thick dusty haze hanging in the air as the door swung open. It was a small room, big enough for one large bed, a closet-sized bathroom, a dresser holding an ancient TV and a few awkwardly placed lamps. Dean let out a low sigh as he saw the single bed but decided not to waste time arguing about it; he didn't plan on sleeping all that much anyway.

With a few more stumbling footsteps, he managed to get Sam into the room and gently deposited him on the bed, arranging him a little so he was propped against the headboard like a semi-conscious puppet. "I'm going to get the bags. Stay here, alright?"

"Good plan." Sam mumbled drowsily, flashing him a half-hearted thumbs-up.

Dean popped the trunk, looping his and Sam's duffel bags over his shoulder before closing the trunk once more. He walked back into the room, dumping the bags unceremoniously onto the floor and closing the door behind him. He dropped the key back into his pants pocket and dropped to one knee, fishing out the weathered first aid kit out of his bag. In one smooth movement, he tucked it under his arm and dropped back onto the bed next to Sam.

"Alright, Sammy," He said, gently removing the baseball cap and blood-soaked washcloth from his younger brother's forehead. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

The cut wasn't deep, little more than a shallow gash that stretched about two and a half inches above Sam's eyebrow. However, the skin around the cut was swollen and bruised, a dark discoloration forming beneath the dried blood. Nothing looked broken but Dean prodded the area around the cut gently with his fingers, smiling faintly as Sam tried to unsuccessfully bat his hands away.

Grabbing a package containing an antiseptic wipe, he opened it and turned back to Sam. "Alright, kiddo, first and last name." He brushed the cool cloth across Sam's forehead, carefully scrubbing away the dried blood that had smeared against his skin.

Sam winced as the stinging medicine entered the cut and squeezed his eyes shut, "Dean, really?"

"Yeah, really. First and last name."

There was a heavy groan and Dean sat back a little. "What, you gunna throw up again?" He asked, snatching a lamp shade and holding it in front of Sam.

"No," Sam sighed, shaking his head slowly. "Dean, I think we've established the fact that I haven't knocked myself silly."

"Look," Dean sighed in return, dropping the bloody cloth onto the bed and looking back at Sam. "If you answer all the questions I'll let you go to sleep, alright? Deal?"

Sam nodded and leaned back against the headboard again. "Sam Winchester."

"Date?"

"March 9th."

"Good. Birth year?"

"1983."

"Yep. Town you were born in?"

"Lawrence, Kansas."

"Very good. And that incredibly sexy, black car outside is an-?"

"Impala."

"And the crowd goes wild!" Dean smiled and plucked a few thin bandages from the first aid kit. He carefully covered the cut and pushed Sam's hair away from his face. "There ya go, mummy boy."

Sam made some sort of comment under his breath but Dean ignored it, pushing him a little further down onto the mattress and pulling off his boots. He tucked everything back into the first aid kit and placed it back in his bag, listening as Sam's breathing evened out into a slow, deep rhythm.

He stood slowly, walking back over to the bed and taking a seat next to his sleeping brother. Glancing at his watch and realizing it was only 4:30, he let out a slow breath and flicked on the TV, keeping the volume low. He found some show about motorcycles and crossed his arms over his chest, watching it with only half-interest.

Sam shifted slightly next to him, making a small noise in the back of his throat before he settled back into the peaceful sleep.

Beside him, Dean smiled softly and patted his shoulder. "Sleep well, Sammy." He said, turning his attention back to the TV. It was going to be a slow night…

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**Poor Sam, I refuse to make this easy on him O.o**


	5. Sleep Mumbling

**Woot!! Okay, so I kinda based this chapter off of my best friend. When she got surgery done not too long ago she was on a helluva lot of painkillers and they made her pretty loopy for a few days so this is semi-dedicated to her :D Hope you like it!!**

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Dean blinked, sitting up a little straighter and looking around the darkened room in confusion. He hadn't realized he's dozed off but a quick glance at his watch told him it had only been for a few minutes. He looked over to Sam sleeping next to him and thought about waking him up but decided against it; the kid had only been asleep for about thirty minutes anyway. He sat still, watching the slow rise and fall of his brother's chest for a few seconds to assure himself that Sam hadn't in fact kicked it while he'd been asleep. Satisfied with his findings, Dean swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood slowly, wincing as his back popped all the way to his hips. Sleeping sitting up could be a really pain in the ass, literally, and unfortunately it was something he'd gotten used to over the past few years.

Dean walked over to something that could barely be called a bathroom sink and turned it on, letting the cool water wash over his hands. He scrubbed at his face, forcing himself to wake up a little more and let out a breath. He looked back over to Sam, knowing that cut on his head was still swollen and bruised and also knowing that it would only continue to get worse if he didn't do something about it. He walked back into the bedroom, grabbing the keys from the bedside table and stepping out onto the sidewalk.

The ice machine was a little farther from their room than he had originally anticipated, tucked nicely beside the front office next to a soda vending machine that looked like it had probably survived Pearl Harbor. Dean grabbed one of the little Styrofoam buckets sitting next to the machine and filled it with ice, squinting one eye at the high-pitched metallic whine that accompanied the process. He tucked the bucket under one arm and made his way back to the room, glancing out at the setting sun as he did. The sky was stained pink and orange, small wispy clouds floating high above in the evening twilight. A few cars passed by the motel but no one ever stopped; in fact, their car was the only one in the lot. With a shrug, Dean pushed open their door and stepped back inside.

He walked back over to the bathroom and dumped the ice in the sink, swishing it around so that the bigger pieces would break apart. He grabbed a washcloth from the corner of the sink and scooped a handful of ice into it, closing the corners to make a little pouch. He wrapped one more washcloth around the first one so it wouldn't leak too much and walked back over to the bed, sitting down beside his brother.

Sam was half-curled on one side, his hair falling across his forehead and covering the cut almost completely. His arms were crossed over his chest, hands hanging loosely at his sides as he slept. God knows he needed it, the circles under his eyes seemed to grow darker every day.

Dean reached out, his fingers barely brushing the fabric of Sam's shirt when a voice stopped him.

"Dammit Dean, stop kicking me…"

Somewhat confused, Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at his brother's back. "Dude, I didn't touch you." There was no reply from Sam so he leaned a little closer, looking down at his face. "Sammy?"

Sam was sound asleep, his eyes still closed and his face relaxed.

For a second, Dean was convinced he was going crazy and had been hearing things. Maybe they had been on the road a little too long this time around… The he heard it. There was a soft mumbling in the room and it wasn't coming from him or the TV. It was coming from Sam.

The older man paused, listening for a second but never able to make out any full words. He suppressed a laugh, shaking his head a little. "Good God, Sam. You started talking in your sleep again?" He said, not really talking to anyone but himself.

It was a little surprising, actually. Usually Sam would only do his "sleep mumbling" as Dean so teasingly called it when he was sick or drugged out of his mind. Apparently, heavy painkillers have an adverse affect on his brother because instead of knocking him out like a normal person, Sam argues with inanimate objects. There had been one time when Sam was still in high school and had gotten his wisdom teeth removed, Dean nearly had to strap him to the bed to make him stay in one place. He had watched one night for about twenty minutes while Sam had a very in depth conversation with a padlock before he decided to never give him anything stronger than Tylenol if he could help it.

Sam shifted a little, his voice forming nonsensical words and sentences as he slept on. Occasionally, he'd get a little louder, almost as if he were being more insistent about a certain incoherent point, before he faded off into mumbles again.

Dean watched him for several minutes, desperately trying to hold back the laugh that was clawing at the back of his throat. "What the hell are you dreaming about over there, Sammy?" He asked softly as Sam shook his head negatively.

"Trees…"

"Of course you are." Dean touched his shoulder lightly and pulled so that Sam turned to face him. He knew full well that you should never wake a sleepwalker but a sleep talker was a little different; usually if he was woken up abruptly in the middle of one of his episodes, Sam would break out with a rather impressive string of curses like he had suddenly developed Turrets'. It was something they'd learned when Sam was little; a pretty startling trick for a nine-year-old with a fever. So to keep from being cursed at like a sailor, Dean treated him exactly like a sleepwalker, careful to keep from making any sudden movement that might startle his younger brother.

He pressed the ice pack against Sam's forehead, holding him a little tighter as the younger man tried to jerk away from the cold. "Shh, its alright Sammy." He said quietly, loosening his grip as Sam began to relax again.

"Cold…" Sam mumbled, still all but dead to the world in the throws of sleep.

"Well, get under the blankets if you're cold." Dean suggested, looking at the way Sam was laying on top of the bedding. Sam, however, never heard him, his consciousness still a couple of miles away. Dean sighed, realizing it would be easier to win a political debate with a brick wall rather than move his brother right now. Knowing there was very little else he could do, Dean shrugged out of his jacket and laid it across Sam's shoulders, watching as his brother relaxed once again.

"God, you are such a pain in the ass." Dean mumbled softly, gently brushing the hair away from Sam's forehead and keeping the ice pack pressed over the cut. Turning his attention back to the TV, he let his arm fall over Sam's back and settled back against the headboard.

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**Ahh fluff...*dreamy sigh* Hehe, I know this was kind of short but it should be a little longer next time, I promise!! :D**


	6. Disney Trivia

**Wow, this chapter was much shorter than I thought it would be O.o Oh well, its just for fun and laughs! Hope you like it!!**

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"Sammy, wake up."

Sam blinked, slowly coming up from the depths of sleep to stare at the motel ceiling. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the muted flickering TV across from them. He blinked again, pushing himself up on one elbow and wincing as the movement caused his head to start throbbing all over again. There was a soft tap on his shoulder and he turned to see Dean handing him a bottle of water and a couple of Tylenol.

"Here, take these." His brother said, pushing the pills into his hand. "I'm sure your head's starting to hurt again."

Sam nodded slightly, his mind still sleep muddled and opened the water bottle. He took a drink and downed the pills, coughing a little as the water went down a little to quickly.

Dean watched him for a second before clearing his throat. "Hey Sammy-"

Sam cut him off before he could finish. "Sam Winchester, March 9th, 1983, Lawrence, Kansas, you drive an Impala. Happy?"

Dean frowned in annoyance and shook his head. "No, I'm not happy. You memorized the answers!"

"Dean…"

"Quick, name the seven dwarves."

There was a pause. "Now you're just being an asshole."

"Don't care, do it."

Sam looked at his brother incredulously, his eyes widening a little. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm totally serious. Do it."

Sam let out a long sigh and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Happy, Sleepy, Doc, Bashful, Sneezey, Dopey, and Grumpy."

"Good." Dean thought for a second, glancing over to the TV. "What was the name of the crab from The Little Mermaid?"

"Sebastian."

"Alright, Mickey Mouse is hooked up with-?"

"Minnie Mouse."

"What did that crazy bitch from Sleeping Beauty turn into at the end of the movie?"

"Uh…a dragon?"

Dean laughed, shaking his head slowly.

"What?" Sam knew that look on his brother's face and it never meant anything good.

"Dude, you are so gay." Dean chuckled, glancing at Sam from the corner of his eye and laughing ever harder at the irritated glare he was shooting at him.

"How am I gay when you're the one asking Disney trivia?"

Dean shrugged. "Hey, I was flipping through the TV earlier and passed the Disney channel and figured it would make for some pretty good questions." He nudged Sam's shoulder lightly and laughed again as his brother punching him in the arm. "Okay, one more."

"No one more."

"Yep. Sorry, this is funny." Dean got another punch in the arm and laughed. "What was the color of the parrot from Aladdin?"

Sam's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Dean, I saw Aladdin when I was nine. I don't know."

"Pick something."

The younger man sighed and fell back onto the bed, covering his eyes with his arm. "Hell, I don't know. Blue?"

"Nope!" Dean exclaimed triumphantly. "He was red!"

Sam smirked from under his arm and looked up at his brother. "Now who's gay?"

Dean opened his mouth to say something, thought for a minute and closed it again. "Shut up and go back to sleep." He tossed a pillow over Sam's head and turned back toward the TV.

Sam suppressed another chuckle and tucked the pillow beneath his head, staring at the ceiling for a few more seconds. Dean's jacket was still thrown over his shoulders, the familiar smell of leather and gun powder causing him to relax again. "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, man."

The older man smiled softly and shrugged. "Yeah, yeah." He muttered, ruffling Sam's hair slightly.

The constant flipping of TV channels faded into a dull form of white noise and Sam found himself sinking back into the welcoming arms of sleep.

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**Last chapter coming up!! Hope to see you there!! :D**


	7. Grimm vs Disney

**Wow, I am so incredibly sorry it took me so long to update!! School started back up and I got swamped all of a sudden so I'm sorry this took much longer than it should have O.o On a happier note, I'm so glad you all enjoyed this story!! It was alot of fun to write and your reviews were very encouraging!! Much love!! :D**

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Sam blinked up at the ceiling, squinting a little at the bright sunlight that flooded through the tattered curtains of the motel room. Tiny particles of dust floated through the sunny beams, shimmering and disappearing into the shadows once again. Sam blinked again, allowing consciousness to fully develop, his senses reawakening after what felt like a very long time. He pushed himself onto one elbow, looking around the room carefully. Slowly, everything began to come back to him; the plasma donation, the motel the night before, everything floated back in a dizzy haze. Had it not been for the dull throb in the side of his head, he would have thought the entire thing had been a dream.

Sam sat up a little more, his back stiff and sore from sleeping in one position for too long. His clothes clung to his skin, the fabric slightly stiffer from being worn for about two days straight. His hair fell across his forehead in a disheveled mess, dark wisps curling over his eyes and sticking to his eyelashes. Sam winced a little as he raked a hand through his hair, the heel of his hand catching on the thin bandages that covered the cut above his eyebrow. He sighed heavily, shaking his head a little; there was no way Dean was going to let him live this down any time soon. The brother in question was currently absent so it seemed he still had a few more minutes to himself before the teasing would begin.

Standing slowly, he snagged a change of clothes from his bag and made his way to the restroom to change. He walked mechanically, his body still adjusting to the idea of being awake and functional. Sam changed into the clean clothes, wadding the old ones under one arm and walking back into the bedroom. He tossed the dirty clothes back into his bag and stopped by the somewhat sink, splashing cold water on his face to increase the ascent to consciousness.

"Well, look who's up." A familiar voice called form behind him, the door swinging open and letting in a flood of sunlight. Dean stepped into the bedroom, a fast food bag tucked under one arm and a large drink tucked under the other.

"Hey." Sam smiled weakly at his brother, frowning at how raspy his voice sounded in his ears. He cleared his throat quietly, stepping back into the bedroom.

"Hey yourself." Dean said, setting the bag down on the bedside table and sitting on the bed. "Dude, I didn't you were ever going to wake up." He laughed, reaching into the bag and pulling out a crudely wrapped burger.

"How long was I asleep?" Sam pushed the hair away from his eyes again, suddenly aware he had no idea how long they had been in this particular motel room.

His brother took a bite of the burger, made a slight face and looked at the clock next to him. "Uh…you were going on about eighteen hours."

"What?"

"Yeah, give or take." Dean took another bite of the burger, apparently deciding it wasn't the most terrible thing in the world and shrugged. "Seriously, I had to check to make sure you were still breathing a couple of times." He laughed but Sam wasn't sure if it was meant to be a joke or not. "Hungry?"

"Starving actually." Sam answered honestly, realizing he hadn't eaten in almost two days.

Dean tossed him a burger wrapped in yellow wax paper and pushed the drink on the bedside table toward him. "I wasn't sure how awake you were going to be when I got back so I only got one." He explained as his younger brother examined the cup like it was some kind of trick.

Sam nodded and took a seat next to him, unwrapping the burger and taking a bite. It wasn't that hot and it certainly didn't taste great but it was food and at the moment he was satisfied with that. They ate in silence for a few minutes, the dull murmur of the TV the only thing that filled the void.

"So, where to now?" Sam asked after he'd finished, crumpling the wrapper and tossing it back and forth between his hands.

Dean grabbed the drink and swallowed, taking his time before answering. "Well, I figured we could stay here another day if you want."

Sam blinked. Usually Dean was ready to get the hell outta Dodge the minute the sun came up so it was unusual for him to suggest them staying another night. "You serious?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, you slept through the check-out time anyway and I know you could probably use another good night's sleep. I know I could."

The younger man chuckled softly. He vaguely remembered Dean waking him up a few times the night before, always asking ridiculous questions such as who the presidents on Mount Rushmore were and what was the longest river in the world just to make sure he hadn't knocked anything irreversible loose. He knew Dean had probably stayed up most of the night watching after him so staying another night at the motel might not be such a bad idea after all. "Yeah, okay. Sounds like a plan to me."

Dean smirked and nodded. "Besides, I can't have you fainting on me again anytime soon princess."

There it went. Sam sighed loudly and buried his face in his hands. "Ugh…you aren't going to let this go any time soon, are you?"

"Hell no!" Dean laughed, nudging him playfully. "I probably have two, if not three months of hard core teasing I have to get out of my system before you're off the hook."

"You know I completely blame you for this right?"

"Oh, don't get all bitchy Sleeping Beauty."

Sam rolled his eyes. "That doesn't count, I didn't touch a spinning wheel."

"You should know, Disney Boy."

"Dean, I swear to God, the next thing we hunt I'm letting it eat you."

"Oh, like the Big Bad Wolf?" The older man laughed. "Good reference, Sammy."

"That was not a Disney reference! That was Grimm's Fairy Tales!"

"You know you're not making this any easier on yourself, right?"

"Ugh…"

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**Hehe, Sam's going to go through hell for a while for this :D Hope you all liked it and I will see you soon!! Thank you!!**

**-Layla**


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